The wee hours of the morning were my waking call today. 4 am woke me with pains that interrupted my sleep and jarred me into the reality that this bump I carry is about to be a living, breathing, screaming, kicking, bundle of joy.
Knowing the complexities that is my lot in labor- I tried to force myself back to sleep. After all, the best thing before a marathon is a good nights sleep.
After an hour a half of fighting, and losing, every 7 minutes, I pulled my head from my comfy pillow and started my day. After all, if today was the day- there were things yet to be done. The boys lunches were still unmade, there were crumbs under the table and dishes yet to be done, backpacks to pack and laundry to put away.
My children joined me not long after in a hazy state of wake/sleepiness.
Still they came, 10 minutes apart, like soldiers marching to a beat that only my body knew. Not strong enough to stop me, but stall me they did. Onward I pressed to ready the children for the day that could still take place. I knew something about my body that I was dreading… This could be all for naught.

This is not my first rodeo. I’ve been through this roller coaster three times before. You name it, I have a good chance of having experienced it. Pregnancy is not for the faint of heart. A life is not birthed without pain and labor.

One word keeps beating in my head.

Tyce.

The baby that just would not come.

I was convinced at 37 weeks that my son was trying to make his entrance… And 5 weeks later, I was right.
5 weeks that tried me like nothing I’ve ever experienced. 5 weeks that tried my marriage like nothing else.
So much so, I debated calling him Braxton for all the false labor I experienced. It was on again off again for 5 whole weeks.
35 days.
And I dread that thought again.
I don’t want to experience that again.
I don’t want to cry those tears that have already fallen from my eyes.
I don’t want to be tried in that way again.
It’s painful.
It’s frustrating.
It’s overwhelming.
It’s heartbreaking at times.

The day trudged on into the noon hour. Still the waves of pain washed over my body. But the one thing I hoped for, didn’t come. There was no change. Still 10 minutes. Still the same consistency. Any woman that has experience labor knows it has to get worse before the prize is delivered. It’s not butterflies and rainbows, but hard work, deep ache, perseverance and purposeful pain that bring life into this world.

About hour 8, they finally subsided. And oh how grateful and mortified I was at the same time. 8 hours of work- wasted. But 8 hours of torture was now over. No more “is this the day” “could this really be it” “what if…”

Relief. Though not in the way I had hoped, is mine. For now, this princess rests comfortably in my womb being crafted and formed by the All-knowing Maker of perfection. Her kicks are welcome and her movements known only by me. So I will choose to cherish this. I don’t know why. But I don’t need to know why.
I need to trust.
And perhaps the only way to get this stubborn daughter of His (me) to pay attention is this.
Ann Voskamp wrote this piece of beauty that touched my heart today.
What if He doesn’t. What if He chooses to let me experience “Tyce” again. What then?

“Even if He doesn’t do what we beg, we are still His beloved.” -Ann Voskamp

Even if He doesn’t bring this baby in my timing. I will trust. Because He is Good. And all things are for my good. Because I love The Lord and I am called according to His purpose, NOT my desire.

Ezryi Jane – God is my gracious help.

And he is proving that to me even before her life is held in any human hands.

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